


That Man Is Not Truly One

by Pearl09



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Talkative Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Vampire Jaskier | Dandelion, i love that that is a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25695577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl09/pseuds/Pearl09
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier have been traveling together for a while. After losing a bet, Geralt leads them to Novigrad. What was meant to only be a few days turns into much longer, with a murderer on the loose and Geralt hired to find them. With all his enhanced senses, it should be easy. So why can't he figure it out?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 171





	That Man Is Not Truly One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks for reading! This story was inspired by a multitude of things and yet I can't quite pinpoint half of the reasons why. Rated M for a lot of dead bodies and blood. Geralt is also pretty talkative, because it just doesn't work any other way, so he's probably more like book or game Geralt. I'd like to thank my friends for sticking by me and letting me yell at them as this fic slowly consumed my life! I hope you enjoy!

“You know, most people don’t like seeing blood.”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully, walking alongside Roach and Geralt riding on top of her. “I’ve never really thought of it. It’s a normal thing, isn’t it? Everyone has blood. Everyone bleeds. Why does it have to have such negative connotations to it?”

“Be careful following that train of thought. Next you know, you’ll start singing about blood to boost it’s image amongst the people.”

He snorted. “I think I’ll stick with upholding the good reputation I’m giving to you witchers. Besides, there aren’t many words I can think of that rhyme with blood.”

“Flood. Dud. Mud. Thud.”

“Those are all thrilling. Absolutely captivating. I really hope you can pick up on my sarcasm here.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “And there are so many that rhyme with witcher.”

“Sure there are. Pitcher. Stitcher. Richer. Bitcher.”

Geralt spurred Roach on a little more, speeding her pace to a trot so Jaskier would have to work harder to catch up.

“Oh, and now you’re being an ass!” Jaskier called after him.

“Grass. Pass. Class. Sass.” He hummed, a glimmer of a playful smirk on his face. “You’re right, that does seem to have the better rhymes.”

With a sigh, he jogged a little to catch up with the horse once more, speeding up his normal pace so he wouldn’t fall behind again. Bouncing lightly with the horse’s footsteps was the head of Geralt’s latest kill – the wyvern that Jaskier watched him slay, and almost got swept into the fight himself. Changing the subject from rhymes, Jaskier brought it back to what it was originally. “Is that head the reason why you brought this up in the first place?” Geralt nodded. “Well, I guess I’m just used to seeing a decapitated monster head because of traveling with you so much.”

“Most people react to seeing the head. Barf, perhaps. It’s all something you grow used to. Stepping out of the way to avoid the barf is the most important part to remember when collecting the reward for a contract.”

Jaskier smiled mischievously. “Are you confident enough that you’d be willing to place a bet on it?”

“... Sure.”

“I bet that if this person we’re traveling to doesn’t barf at the sight, you turn that horse straight to Novigrad.”

“Why?”

“I miss the extravagance!” he pouted. “Sure, Oxenfurt might be better for parties with the school and all, but Novigrad is closer. Just let us stop and rest there for a few days, you can clean up and rid yourself of that awful smell, I can play at a tavern or two, maybe in the town square, and it will be like a mini vacation!”

“Fine. But if I don’t get enough gold off of this, then you’re paying for the rest with your little performances.”

“But of course, my friend! And what do you want in return if you win? Though I doubt you will win, we still need to make this fair and set the rules down ahead of time.”

“If I win… you have to stop complaining.”

“Stop complaining? About what? When do I ever complain?”

“You just did. Telling me I stink.”

“I –” He shut his mouth and thought about it for a moment. “A week. Only for a week. It’s not fair that mine would be only a few days and yours would be for a long time.”

“A week it is.”

“So we have ourselves a deal? You won’t go back on your word?”

Geralt looked down at him. “You have my word. And a witcher’s word is valuable.”

“Hah, sure it is.” 

As the conversation ended, Jaskier noticed Roach slowing down so he matched her speed, once again walking at a normal pace side by side down the rutted, dirt road.

~~~

They set up camp not far from their destination, much to Jaskier’s protest, but Geralt was certain they wouldn’t want visitors this late and insisted they would make it early in the morning and give them plenty of time for other things the next day. So, he coincided, helping prepare the campsite and providing light music for Geralt’s cooking as he worked on some of his newer songs.

Later that night, after they had both fallen asleep, Geralt woke suddenly, sitting up in alarm, reaching for his sword that was lying nearby. The fire they had left burning to keep them warm was reduced to embers, a few glowing but most of them smoking, black lumps of deformed wood. It was then then that he noticed Jaskier wasn’t nearby – his bedroll was laid out, and his lute in its case next to it, carefully laid in the grass, but he was missing.

A rustling in the nearby trees caught his attention, as clearly, something was coming towards the campsite. His hand still laid on his swords, motionless. Whatever it was, it was crashing through the trees hard, and he couldn’t tell if he would need the silver or steel. He would have to make a last minute decision if needed. If he was lucky, it was a deer he could scare away. If not, well, maybe there was another contract out nearby. 

Movement joined the rustling sound as the thing drew nearer, and just as Geralt’s fingers closed around the hilt of his silver sword, Jaskier stumbled out of the woods, groggy with sleep. He paused by the trees, seeing Geralt awake and holding a still sheathed sword, and managed to say, “Had to piss,” before he was moving back to his bedroll and stretching out on it.

Geralt watched him as he curled up and promptly fell asleep once more, feeling his heart beat in his chest as the adrenaline worked its way out. For a second there, he had mistaken Jaskier for a monster. What disaster could he have struck if he had pulled his sword out and swung without waiting, too worried about his own life? What if, after worrying over and over that the next monster they ran into would hurt Jaskier, he was the one to hurt him instead?

More importantly, what woke him up? What caused the adrenaline to course through his veins as he startled awake? Perhaps it was another nightmare, one that left his brain completely the moment he woke.

He laid back on his own bedroll and stared up at the stars in thought, waiting for sleep to wash over him as he wondered about the strange events.

~~~

“Novigrad is that way,” Jaskier said, pointing out over the hills.

“Are you certain?”

He rolled his eyes. “Look, just because you’re sore about losing the bet does not mean you can feign ignorance. What did you say about a witcher’s word, huh?”

“Are we staying in the city, or on the outskirts?”

“Is that even a question?” He was baffled, wondering if Geralt was teasing him or not. “Of course we’re staying in the city. Someone as popular as me doesn’t just stick to the outskirts of the city. I can understand why a man like yourself might, but-”

“What does that mean?”

“Huh?”

“A man like myself?”

“Oh, nothing…” he trailed off and hummed quietly to himself, pondering over whether he should go through the effort of pulling the lute from its case and play their way to the city. “Just do what you want to do for a few days, we’ll share a room to cut down on costs, and before you know it, we’ll be back on the road again. Then, we can see what other monsters lurk deep in the shadowy depths of the woods, haunting the local towns and waiting for a dashing witcher such as yourself to fight it.”

Geralt mounted Roach in one swift moment and spurred her on, starting the journey without another word. If everything went well, they should make it to the city before nightfall, giving Jaskier plenty of time to set himself up as the bard at one of the many taverns for the night. 

“Have any new songs you’re going to test out tonight?” Geralt asked once Jaskier caught up.

He made a face. “Like you care.”

“I’d rather know if there are going to be more stories spread about me than be surprised at the tavern is all.”

“You mean you’re going to stay for the performance?”

He grunted. “I’m going to stay for the ale. Your performances always accompany that.”

“Well, I can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I have a new song, yes, but I am uncertain when to make its debut. It needs the proper audience. If the people are too drunk, they won’t appreciate its fine craftsmanship, words spun together like a piece of luxurious silk. But if they’re too dumb, they won’t understand it either.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Yes, I know. It seems the best place would be at Oxenfurt, but those taverns tend to be taken up by the new and aspiring bards, and I’d rather not steal the show from them. Not too often, at least, for I do make the occasional trip back there. But alas, my school days are long gone. A lot of wild and strange things happened during those days, let me tell you.”

“I’d rather not hear about how many people you seduced while you were studying, Jaskier.”

“Fine, suit yourself. You never seem to quite appreciate the fine art of storytelling, anyway.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the city from a distance. Between Novigrad and Oxenfurt, there weren’t really any other well built towns near Velen. They had proper bridged entrances, stone walls, even sewers, while everywhere else was lucky enough to have a wooden fence enclosing the houses. Even so, they still had to travel quite a bit before the stone wall loomed above their heads.

Jaskier waited giddily as Geralt dismounted Roach and pulled what he would need off of her saddle, tying her up at a horse feeding station just outside. As soon as he turned around Jaskier broke out into a brisk walk, leading them through the crowded streets to one of the best places he could perform at – the Kingfisher Inn.

“Come on, Geralt, no one is going to hurt you,” he said exasperatedly as Geralt hesitated outside of the door.

“This is one of the more refined taverns.”

“And? If I can start to play early enough in the evening, it will be perfect for the new song I was talking about. Or is it more of a ballad? Anyway, if you’re worried about not being able to pay for the room, I can make a deal with the owner.” He flashed a pearly white smile. “I can be quite charming and convincing when I want to be.”

“And when you don’t mean to be,” Geralt muttered behind him, following him in. Geralt had grown used to taverns growing quiet at the sight of him – oftentimes, everyone would go dead silent, stopping all conversation just to stare at him. So he wasn’t surprised when those closest to the door trailed off their conversations to stare, or quieted at the sight of him. He was surprised there wasn’t more, but when you carry two swords on your back, they do tend to draw attention. Especially in a city.

“I’m not getting rid of the swords,” Geralt said to Jaskier as he gently pulled him to the counter, unafraid and staring back into everyone’s gaze until they looked away, embarrassed. “You never know what might be lurking around, even in a city.”

“No one is asking you to, trust me. They all just don’t have the pleasure of seeing a witcher often.”

“Pleasure?” Geralt repeated, confused by his choice of words. He didn’t think it was a pleasure to travel with him, not when he didn’t stay in one place very long and spent at least half of his travels killing monsters.

Jaskier didn’t answer as they had reached the bar, leaning on it and making sure his lute could be seen over his shoulder as he flashed another charming smile. “Hello. You might have heard of me – the bard Jaskier, writer of _Toss a Coin to Your Witcher_ and a handful of other popular tunes. Me and my companion are staying in Novigrad for a few days, and I would just love to play for your tavern. Perhaps, we could exchange some song and entertainment for a room to stay in?”

The owner sized the pair up as he looked them over. “You must be the famed witcher, then, if you’re with him. The great White Wolf. I think we can make that arrangement, but it will only be enough for one room. If you want another, you’ll have to pay for it.”

“One is perfectly fine,” Jaskier continued, nodding. “We’ll take the key to rid ourselves of our unwanted belongings, and then, after a few minutes to warm up, I can come and play for your customers.”

In a few moments, Jaskier was twirling the key in his hand as he led them up the stairs, seeming to woo everyone they passed with just a look. Of course, their attitude changed when Geralt passed them, glaring daggers, and they had to look away. There were not many who could withstand the gaze of a witcher for very long, especially when that gaze hid anger in its depths. 

The room was quaint, with only a simple bed and side table, and a handful of wall paintings. Geralt dropped his items in a corner with a loud thud as Jaskier set his lute case on the bed and started to open it.

“Suppose I should have confirmed the size of the room before I accepted it,” Jaskier said sheepishly, pulling the strap of his lute around his head. The bed isn’t really big enough to share, not if we both want our own separate space…”

“‘S alright,” Geralt grunted. “I can take the floor. Just being out of the elements to sleep is nice enough.”

“Well then! Allow me a few moments to tune and warm up, and then I can show you this nice table in the back that still has a perfect view of the stage. I’ll even pay for your first round of ale. Just keep giving people that glare of yours, and they’ll leave you alone as much as you want.”

~~~

It had been a nice night, even if Geralt was reluctant to admit it. Jaskier sang his heart out on stage, barely stopping for food and the occasional drink, while Geralt was able to hide in the back and appreciate the view. The food was decent, too, and he didn’t have to hunt and cook for himself. As far as the ale went… well, nothing quite made him drunk like the White Gull mixture he and the other witchers made in Kaer Morhen when they winter there, but at least this tasted nice.

Jaskier was still asleep when Geralt woke, but that wasn’t unusual. Humans needed more sleep than witchers anyway, and while Geralt was always up with the sun, a typical morning where he wanted to get moving would include waking the bard up so he could gather his things. Currently, he was snoring lightly, and a bit of drool escaped his mouth and made its way down his face. It was almost endearing to see.

Seeing as they didn’t have plans to leave any time soon, Geralt left him alone to sleep, though he did gently pull the blanket up to cover him better. Then, collecting his swords from the corner where he deposited them before sleeping, he set out for the city streets. It wasn’t often that a witcher stopped in the larger cities – with more people around, it made for more insults and more people instigating fights. That meant a city like Novigrad was ripe for witcher contracts. Who knows what drowner might have gotten into someone’s basement through the sewers, or what house might be infested with wraiths, and there could even be a water hag poisoning the local well.

The notice board would be the best place to find a person’s plea for help, if he wasn’t stopped in the street by anyone else looking to get rid of a monster. If he was lucky, he would make the coin being offered and be back at the tavern before Jaskier’s next performance that night. Though if it required more time, he was sure Jaskier would understand. That was part of the reason he agreed to the bet anyway, believing he wouldn’t find himself short of any work here.

Since no one did stop him, Geralt’s trip to the closest notice board was uneventful. He found it covered in bulletins of all kinds that were nailed to the wooden boards. Some were propaganda, which didn’t surprise him. Others were asking for items they needed, or items they wanted to trade out for something else. The lost pet one, however, caught his eye, so he tore it down and read it over again. Indoor cats don’t usually just go missing, not when the owner swore the cat had never escaped when they entered or left the house. While he might have to be the bearer of bad news to say that the cat was more than likely dead, it did seem like the perfect monster bait to him. A look over the house and the nearby area should tell him if he was right or not.

As he turned to leave, a sobbing woman passed him on the street, attracting the attention of everyone around.

“What’s up with her?” A man muttered to his friend, leaning against the wall by Geralt.

“Didn’t you hear? Her husband was found dead this morning. Poor bloke.”

“Think it was on purpose?”

The other man snorted. “Nae, there was no blood when they found the body. Reckon he drank too much of his money away last night and didn’t make it home this time. They were always complaining about money anyway.”

Geralt read the paper in his hand over once more, having pretended to be interested in it longer than he needed so he could overhear the men’s conversation. Seeing as there was no blood, however, it was extremely unlikely that the cause of death was a monster. That meant it wouldn’t be beneficial to chase after the crying woman and pester her for details. He made a mental note on the address of the notice and started through the streets in search of it.

~~~

“And where have you been?” Jaskier asked as Geralt entered their room once more. His lip curled as soon as the door was closed. “Nevermind. How many drowners did you cut through today?”

“A few,” he said, tossing a coin purse onto the night stand. “Maybe by the time we leave I’ll collect enough to pay for a tent. Then you might stop complaining about the rain when we stop to camp for the night.”

“If I truly didn’t like it, I believe I would have stopped traveling with you long ago, Geralt. Anyway, you smell like you were in the sewer. I won’t go as drastic to get you a bath right now, because I’m sure you’ll just ruin it tomorrow, but you are definitely cleaning up before we leave the city. For now, just – here, some water and a rag. Use this.”

Geralt wrung the rag out into the bowl and wiped his face. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Other than me waking up to an empty room? No. Next time, can you leave a note? I don’t want to think you’ve been kidnapped or anything.”

He grunted. “Yeah, because I’m the one who would be kidnapped.”

“Just – a note would be nice,” he sighed. “What about you? Anything other than drowners?”

“Tomorrow, I’m heading to Temple Isle, where a wraith infested house stands. The bulletin said that a bunch of priests tried to handle it, but they were all slaughtered. And nothing gives coin like rich folk trying to live a normal life.”

“So you’re waiting to try and get a few more coins out of them. I’ll add extortion to the list of things not to mention in songs.”

“But now, I get to be here for your performance.” He paused as he tossed the rag into the bowl. “They found someone dead, too. Heard it was too much alcohol. Don’t drink too much tonight.”

“And not give myself the pleasure of having a hangover tomorrow?” he teased, but then frowned and rested his hand on his head. “Though, I did have quite the experience this morning. I swear I hadn’t had much to drink last night. Do you think my tolerance went down because of not drinking ale as often while we travel from town to town?”

“It’s doubtful. I’d blame it on your lack of food with it.”

Jaskier nodded. “They were a very enthusiastic audience for sure. I hardly had time for a meal. But, I can assure you, I have had plenty to eat today, so it’s less likely that will be the reason if I wake in a similar mood tomorrow.”

“I could use some food myself.”

With a flourish, he gestured to the door, his lute already in hand. “Shall we, then?”

~~~

Geralt looked very out of place on the streets of Temple Isle, the richest section of Novigrad. He received more dirty looks there than anywhere else he had been in the city so far as he passed in his worn armor and everyone else was dressed up like they were going to a ball. But, he had a job to do, and he certainly wasn’t going to let a couple of glares get in the way of earning his coin. Of course, since most people were too busy glaring at him to talk, he didn’t hear many conversations along the way. This helped one interesting one stand out even more.

“Didn’t you hear? She was found dead this morning. In the street right in front of her own house.”

“Really? The eve of her wedding?”

“Yeah, the poor lass. The guards are ready to rule it as a suicide, but the coroner took the body for inspection before they can say anything. All this effort to decorate, all the money her parents put into the wedding. Damn shame.”

Another death… seems strange that there would be two so close to each other. Perhaps it was just such a large city that deaths happened all the time. It seemed a strange coincidence though. He would warn Jaskier when he got back, to be careful if he had to go out at night. Just in case. For now, he focused on rummaging through his bag of potions and decoctions, looking for the one to best help him against an unknown amount of wraiths in such close quarters.

~~~

“How much longer do you plan on staying in the city?” Jaskier asked Geralt, having finally woken before the witcher left. 

“Another day or two, perhaps. Then we should head back out. There are only so many small monsters I can fight in a city, anyway, and I doubt we’ll see anything interesting enough for one of your songs.”

He sat down next to him, crossing his legs, a look of concern on his face. “We don’t have to keep going just for my sake, Geralt. The owner has already agreed to let me play in exchange for a room, and I have a large enough repertoire to keep the crowd interested for many days yet to come.”

Geralt didn’t look at him, continuing to dutifully coat his silver blade in oil. “Still, the bigger the monster, the more coin I get. Because people see them as more of a threat, something they could never face themselves. Everyone has to earn their living somehow.”

Gently, Jaskier placed his hand on Geralt’s shoulder, finally drawing his attention away from the sword. “Those wraiths yesterday really roughed you up. And now what are you preparing for, more drowners? Haven’t you ever thought about taking a break?”

“Do farmers not feed their cattle just because it’s raining? Do seamstresses stop sewing clothes because they pricked their finger with a needle?”

“Geralt, this is _different_. This isn’t getting wet for a few minutes, or having a small pain. This is more of the equivalent of the woodsman’s saw malfunctioning and slicing open his leg. Have you never thought about taking a break? Not even for a few days?”

“I can’t,” he said, turning back to the sword and examining it to see if he missed any spots. “Witchers don’t get breaks. We’re forced to ride from town to town, looking for work, constantly putting ourselves between the world of monsters and the world of men. Witchers are made to fight, trained to fight, and, eventually, die to fighting. There is no happy little witcher retreat where we go to retire. Especially with our numbers dwindling, it’s more important than ever that we keep going.”

Jaskier’s hand dropped, and he scooped it back up into his lap. “Not even one day? Just one day, resting in bed, healing up those wounds. Tomorrow. What if you rest tomorrow, and then we’ll leave the city the next day.”

Geralt considered it. He never really rested, it wasn’t something he did much, but he supposed, if he used the excuse of healing wounds, he could do it this once to please Jaskier. He nodded curtly, and a shaky exhale from Jaskier followed. Funny. He didn’t know Jaskier was so worried. 

~~~

It was in the middle of the afternoon when a sharp rapping on the door interrupted Geralt’s meditation. Jaskier leaped up before Geralt could move, determined to make him rest after he promised. 

“Coming!” He said to whoever was waiting at the other side of the door, and Geralt watched him scramble for the lock and handle to open it. “Oh, hello. Is everything alright?”

The owner stood opposite Jaskier, and though he was prevalent in the doorframe, he looked past his charming smile and directly at Geralt. “Master Witcher, there is someone here to see you.”

Jaskier followed his gaze to watch Geralt as he stood, a frown forming on his face. The three of them filed down the stairs together, finding a crying woman and her consoling husband waiting for them in the better part of the tavern. They were dressed fairly well, so they must be from a richer family.

“Oh, Master Witcher!” The woman cried out upon seeing him, standing abruptly and almost knocking her husband over. “Please, I beg of you, help us!”

Geralt stood before them and crossed his arms as Jaskier listened closely by his side. “What monster problem seems to be troubling you?”

“We don’t know. One minute, our lovely Vitida was raving about how excited she was for her wedding, and the next morning, she was dead! Oh, and I _told_ those guards it wasn’t possibly suicide…” she fell into a fit of sobs once more, producing a handkerchief to cry into.

“The coroner took her body to look her over before he prepared her for her funeral,” the husband picked up. “Today, he revealed that the injuries she sustained didn’t match those of someone falling from a height, or any other kind of suicide he knows of.”

“And what makes you think it was a monster, not a human?”

“I don’t care who or what did this!” The wife wailed. “The guards won’t help us! There wasn’t enough evidence! I just want the bastard that did this to our little girl to pay for what has happened.”

“I don’t tend to kill people,” Geralt started, but was swiftly interrupted.

“We’ll pay! We have lots of coin. As much as you want. Just name your price, Master Witcher, and we’ll see to it you get every piece!”

He turned his gaze to Jaskier, who didn’t seem very pleased about the situation, but when he met Geralt’s gaze, all he did was shrug.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Master Witcher! Thank you!”

“Shall we go then, Jaskier?” Geralt asked, ignoring the voices of gratitude from the pair. “I assume a murder mystery would be something you’d might like to write about.”

“Just when I managed to get you to take a break,” he muttered, but he nodded anyway. “Lead the way, then. Where to?”

“I think the coroner would be the best place to start.”

~~~

“Ah, a witcher!” the man at the door said, peeking from behind it as it was partially opened. “Let me guess, yellow eyes, white hair, you must be the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.”

“And his companion, the talented bard Jaskier,” Jaskier piped up from behind him, and the man had to open the door more to see him.

“Right! You’re the one who sings his praises! They call me Cyril. How may I help the two of you?”

“Can we see the noble girl's body from the other day? The one the guards wanted to call a suicide?”

His face turned grim. “The guards don’t want me making much of a spectacle of this. They don’t want the people to grow uneasy. Come in, then, but do so quietly.”

Geralt and Jaskier stepped into the dark building, waiting for Cyril to close the door behind them so he could lead them to the body. He hurried around them to show them the way, leading them through a series of rooms and hallways until finally stopping near a wall lined with beds, sheets covering their occupants from head to toe.

“Here she is. Take a look for yourself and see how stupid the guards are to want to write this off as a suicide.”

Geralt stepped forward and gripped the sheet by her head, pulling it down to reveal the pallid body. It would almost seem as if she was just sleeping, if it weren’t for the lack of color to her skin. “Vitida’s seen worse days for sure. So, how did her family know about this to come and hire me, if the guards are trying to keep this quiet?”

“I told them first. They had the right to know. Then, when we took it to the guards, they refused to believe it. I’m sure they’ll be forced to acknowledge it when more bodies start to show up.”

“More?” Geralt said, turning to him with a questioning look. 

Instead of answering, Cyril grimly moved to the bed to the left, pulling the sheet back to reveal a young man. He went around to the right of Vitida’s bed and did the same thing there, revealing another woman in more revealing clothing.

“He was the first, came in a few days ago. Will have to get him buried soon before the maggots set in. Then she came in the day after he did, and this whore came this morning. Found her in one of the brothel rooms.”

Jaskier caught Geralt’s eye, standing behind them and paying attention but looking rather pale. “You can wait outside if you want, Jaskier. You don’t need details like this for any song or poem you write.”

He nodded quickly. “I’ll just – I’ll be on the other side of the door.”

Geralt turned back to the bodies to examine them closer. “These two don’t seem to have any marks,” he said, passing the first two, “But she has abrasions on her neck, and those markings on her shoulder. I agree there are no signs of suicide on Vitida, but how are the three related?”

“The markings are on the other two as well, they just have clothes covering theirs. Not all on the shoulder, mind you, but they follow the same pattern. It looks almost like something bit them, I’d say.”

“Anything else you’ve noticed with the bodies?”

“Well – and I might sound crazy – but it seems like they were drained of blood. It's the only cause of death I could find.”

“It’s not crazy,” Geralt said with a sigh. “It only confirms my suspicions. There’s a vampire loose in the city.”

“A vampire? I thought those were just myths…”

“Most people tend to think the rare monsters are. The only thing missing is it seems to have skipped a night of feeding.”

“What does that mean?”

“These first two were back to back nights. Then, a whole night passed before the last one. Vampires don’t need to feed daily, but it might mean something. A pattern, of some sorts.”

Cyril shuffled in place. “I can try to ask around, if you’d like.”

“Take care of what you need to here, first. In the meantime, I should take a look around where the bodies were found.”

“Let me write that down for you.”

List in hand, Geralt left Cyril to tend to the bodies, quickly picking up a tail before he exited the building. 

“So?” Jaskier asked, hurrying to keep up. “What are we doing?”

He hesitated before answering. “You should go back to the tavern, Jaskier.”

“How many times do we have to go over this? I am coming with you on your adventures, you’re awful at giving me the details I need! I can take care of myself enough.”

“Not with this, Jaskier.”

“What is it? Do you know the monster already?”

Geralt paused in the middle of the street, stopping so suddenly that Jaskier almost ran into him. “It’s a vampire, Jaskier. And they don’t mess around. If they think you are the easier target…”

He rolled his eyes. “I doubt we’ll find it if we’re just searching where the bodies were found. Do you really expect it to be hiding there?”

Knowing it would take a lot of effort and time to convince him otherwise, Geralt reluctantly gave in. “Fine. But if I tell you to run, you better run.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say.”

They cut swiftly through the streets, though Geralt did slow down to allow Jaskier a chance to keep up. The closest was the alley, which was luckily free of any people to hinder the search.

Jaskier stood off to the side as Geralt looked around – he knew Geralt’s senses would be able to detect things better than any of his, so he didn’t want to hinder him. Dried blood, stray tufts of hair, someone’s perfume left on a plant, these are all things Geralt has found before while hunting a monster, and some of them Jaskier still couldn’t notice after they were pointed out.

“Anything?” he asked as Geralt walked back over to him, and it was met with a shaking head.

“Either this vampire knows what they are doing, or the scene was too long ago. I’m sure too many people have passed through the street they found Vitida in since then, so that site is almost useless… we might find something more useful at today’s murder. It was inside, too, so it’s more likely to hide something useful.”

“You want to go to the brothel?” Jaskier said, alarmed. “Do you think they’ll let us in without – you know?”

“I don’t care,” Geralt said, already set in his path. “If they don’t let us in, I’ll force my way in. We need to get there and look around.”

It wasn’t very far from the alley, so they made it there in no time, stepping up to the wooden door and trying the door. When it wouldn’t budge, Geralt knocked. Forcefully.

“Sorry, we’re closed today,” a voice from inside said. “Come back later this week, and I can assure you, we’ll be open.”

“I’m here to investigate the murder,” Geralt said, and after a moment, he could hear the creaking floorboard and the lock turning before the door was opened.

“Oh, Master Witcher,” the woman greeted. “What a surprise. Yes, I suppose I can allow you in. Come on, it's right this way.”

Geralt stepped in and immediately started to look around at the empty building, even as he followed the woman, with Jaskier trailing behind.

“I can tell you what I know,” the woman said after stopping at one of the bedroom doors, gesturing inside. “Maxine had retired for the night up here. She didn’t have the best of a housing situation, so occasionally, I would let her stay for the night. I trusted she wouldn’t steal anything. Anyway, when I locked up for the night, she had already closed herself in her room. When I came in the next morning, the room was like this.”

Geralt walked in slowly, observing the small chaos that the room was in. The door was cracked; clearly, something powerful had broken it to get through. There were signs of a struggle, too, though he assumed that already from the abrasions on her neck. The dresser had fallen over, the bed was at an angle, and the rug on the floor was bunched up in the corner. He could only wonder how long she had managed to fight back.

“Are there signs of a break in anywhere else in the building?”

“Yes, but…”

Geralt whirled around. “But what? Show me.”

She took him down the hall, where a window lay smashed on the floor. Claw marks surrounded the sill, long, sharp ruts in the dark oak wood. He ran a hand along one of them, trying to estimate the size of the claws that made them. “Looks like this was it’s escape, maybe it's entrance too. Did anyone else know Maxine was staying here for the night?”

“Yes, I made mention of it after locking up to my barkeep, because he has a key and tends to arrive before I do. I – I trust him though!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it was him. But I wouldn’t be surprised if your words alerted the killer to a defenseless woman alone in here.”

“Oh, I feel so bad about it now,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “I don’t even know if I should reopen, if anyone will want to continue to visit knowing someone was murdered here.”

“You should reopen!” Jaskier said, laying a comforting hand on hers. “Think about all the people who would have to find another job to pay the bills if you permanently closed. As my friend and I can attest, it’s not always easy. If you do still want to close, at least give them a warning so they can try and find something else before their only source of income becomes non-existent.”

“Well, alright. I’ll give it a thought. Is there anything else I can do for you, Master Witcher?”

Geralt stood, having bent over to examine the floor, and shook his head. “I think I’ve seen all I can here. We’ll show ourselves out, thank you.” He spared one last look out the window before trudging back downstairs, a frown etched onto his face.

~~~

“How about I order us some food, and you can stew over your thoughts with some stew,” Jaskier suggested, standing as he spoke. They had claimed a table in the back, far away from any of the other patrons in the tavern. Geralt grunted his approval, and before he knew it, Jaskier returned with two plates in hand.

“Now, would you like to tell me what you’ve figured out so far? I feel like I’m still completely in the dark, even after traveling with you all day.”

Geralt chewed a bite of food thoughtfully before he began to talk, speaking between bites. “The monster is a vampire. Between the claw marks on the window and the marks on the bodies, I have no doubt about that.”

“Alright, that I know. Anything else?”

“All the attacks have happened at night. This particular vampire doesn’t like the daytime.”

“What, is that another myth about vampires? Do some of them actually enjoy the sun?”

“There are multiple classifications of vampires,” he said, moving his food around his plate with his fork, “So really, it depends on which one it is. But usually you can’t tell until you’re face to face with it.”

“So, we know next to nothing is what you’re saying.”

He nodded. “I can’t find a pattern.”

“Pattern?”

“There’s always a pattern. Everyone was drunk, for example. Changes the blood. It’s like – how you won’t eat potatoes with the skin on.”

Jaskier made a face. “Because the skin tastes weird. It sticks to the potato all weird, and it's so thin when you try to chew almost nothing happens. And the texture, ugh, it’s _awful_ against your tongue.”

“Proves my point.”

“So, we might not be able to find a pattern until there are more bodies.”

“Tomorrow I’m going to find the families of the dead and see if I can link them somehow. I want you to stay here in case another body is found. I’m sure the coroner will send word.”

“Fine, but only because you asked nicely. And you have to tell me what happened afterward.”

~~~

“I’m going to take that as you had no luck?” Jaskier said, pushing a tankard of ale over to Geralt after he slumped down in the chair.

“No connections.” He accepted the tankard and took a long drink from it.

“So, once again, we only have that they were at night to put them all together. There was nothing from the coroner, by the way. Seems our vampire skipped last night.”

“Speaking of last night, what the hell were you doing?”

Jaskier had the audacity to look somewhat ashamed, shrinking on himself and rubbing the back of his neck. “I had trouble sleeping. I mean, a vampire loose, in the city? So, I was testing out some chords. I thought I was keeping quiet, but…”

Geralt sighed. “Do you have any ideas?”

“On what, how to catch the vampire? Where it might be hiding? Why would I have any knowledge of that? I’m just the one that follows you, the monster hunter and walking monster encyclopedia, around. Do you know how many scholars in Oxenfurt would kill for your knowledge of monsters? Though I doubt you’d like the names they’ve made for them, assigning them words no one can pronounce with some unnecessary suffixes attached. I could say I saw a ghoul and they would say something fancy back at me.”

“I don’t understand. It’s like the vampire just disappears when it wants to, unbeknownst to everyone.”

“Surely, there’s a logical explanation for that?”

“There is…” He trailed off and lifted the tankard to his lips again, slamming the empty wood back down on the table. “But if I’m right, that’s a very bad thing indeed.”

Jaskier gulped. He had never seen Geralt ever shrink in the face of a monster. He didn’t even shrink in the face of the Djinn, stopping at nothing to reverse the harm he had accidentally done to Jaskier when he was the one who gained the wishes. For him to show even the slightest hint of uneasiness… “We shall certainly hope you’re wrong then. Shall I get us another round?” He stood and took the empty tankard with him, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

~~~

“Wake up, Jaskier.”

He jolted up, frowning at the sight of Geralt already ready and shaking his leg. “What time is it? Have I missed something?”

“It’s a perfectly normal hour in the morning. For you, at least.”

With a stretch that turned into a yawn, he asked, “What is it?”

“They found another body.”

Jaskier blinked back his surprise, but immediately pulled the sheets off and started getting ready.

“You seem to have slept well,” Geralt said as he watched Jaskier fly around the room, turning around with a small chuckle when Jaskier motions for him to. 

Through another yawn, he answered, “Yes, well I suppose hardly sleeping for more than a day makes one extraordinarily tired. You can turn around again, if you want. Just let me fix my hair and I’ll be good to go.”

Geralt watched with slight amusement as it took another few minutes for Jaskier to arrange his hair just the way he wanted it. It needed to look controlled, but not too controlled. Messy, but not too messy. It always took him a while to figure out the perfect balance, even more so when a proper mirror is available.

“Alright, ready to go!”

“Do you think your hair will impress the body we’re about to see?”

“Pfft. You know how many people we pass on the streets. I have to keep up appearances.”

Together they ventured to the coroners once more. Jaskier hesitated outside the final room again, trying to decide if he wanted to try and brave it, but ultimately decided to wait outside the door.

“Ah, there you are,” Cyril greeted, leading him over to a bed. “I was hoping the courier found you well. They fished this one out of the channel this morning. I was about ready to rule it as suicide, before I looked closer at his neck.”

Geralt pulled the sheet off to reveal a male halfling, bloated like a balloon. “He must have been in the water for a few hours at least, to get this way. You mentioned his neck?”

“Right along here.” Cyril’s finger hovered over the side of the halfling’s neck, where the mark was deformed and almost unrecognizable.

“So our vampire pushed him into the water.”

“Or he fell in when he dropped him. The place they found him doesn’t have much to do for railings because of all the boats that dock.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt pulled back the halfling’s shirt, looking over his inflated stomach and the belly button sticking out of the top. “Looks like a few ribs fractured. Would the height have caused that?”

He moved in for a closer look, inspecting what Geralt was referencing. “It depends on how he fell… most people can dive from that height no problem, as long as they can swim, but if he didn’t make it in head or feet first… I’d say plausible, but not likely.”

“Right. Where exactly along the canal was he found?”

Once again, Jaskier hurried after Geralt as they left the building, pressing him for information.

“I don’t know anymore than we did before, now stop asking.”

“You can at least tell me where we’re going? Because the Kingfisher Inn certainly isn’t in this direction.”

“The channel.”

Not long after, the stench of fish and salt water filled the air, as well as the sounds of ships creaking at their moorings and sailors hard at work trading or making repairs or drinking.

“You said it was found here?” Jaskier said, looking down into the murky depths below. “Sure it wasn’t a drowner?”

“There were no claw marks. Besides, the drowners here tend to stick to the sewers.”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Rather interesting that he was found in the water, really. You don’t think he jumped down on his own accord and was chased anyway, do you?”

“I hadn’t considered it.”

“It’s like – running from a swarm of bees. Just head into the water, and you’ll lead them off.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid! Tell me one good reason you can’t avoid bees in water.”

Geralt looked at him and sighed. “They’ll just hover over the water and wait for you to come back.”

Jaskier frowned. “Really? Bollocks! Why does everyone say to run into the water then?”

“Old wives tales, I’m sure.” He continued to look around some more, but there didn’t seem to be anything useful. And the channel was too narrow to risk searching for himself at a busy time like this. Jaskier’s idea had some weight to it, though. If he was in the water of his own accord, he must have struggled to get away from the vampire. It would explain the fractured ribs at least. That was one of the things he didn’t have in common with the other victims.

“You look like you’re having an idea, Geralt. Tell me, have you discovered its scent? A trail of footprints, perhaps, to lead us to where it’s hiding?”

“No. But the pattern…”

“You think you’ve figured out a pattern already?”

“Clearly, the vampire doesn’t only care for humans. But, the first victim was a male. Then, two females. And now, another male.”

“You think it’s going based on gender? What reason would it have to do that?”

“I’m not sure.”

Jaskier sighed exasperatedly. “This vampire hunt is turning out to be a lot more difficult than I bargained for. Can we just skip to the good, juicy details when you finally figure it out?”

“Life is full of disappointments, Jaskier.”

“Ugh.”

“Let’s go see if this halfling had any family. Otherwise…”

“We have to wait for a new murder to see if the pattern is correct. You know, you would make a terrible detective.”

“Sometimes, a few deaths can’t be prevented. Especially with a monster in the middle of it all.”

“An unknown vampire, with a currently unknown pattern, unknown lair, and unknown attack schedule. Sure. Piece of cake. Just take the lead, Geralt.”

~~~

“Damn.” Geralt stood before the latest body, a male dwarf. He suffered from no injuries other than the usual bite mark, but it meant the pattern that had been forming was shattered.

“Is something wrong, Master Witcher?”

“Were there deaths like this before the first one you showed me? Last week, maybe?”

Cyril sighed and shook his head. “The guards may be incompetent sometimes, but even now they’re starting to realize maybe something is wrong. I examine all the bodies that come through here, and I don’t recall seeing a mark like that at all until that man.”

“There must be a – pattern. There must be something that draws the vampire to these people in particular. Some kind of link. Something, no matter how small, that connects them.”

“It’s just like the Oxenfurt murders.”

Both Geralt and Cyril turned around to find Jaskier leaning in the doorframe. “What, have you not heard of those?”

“I can’t say I have,” Cyril said, and Geralt shook his head.

Jaskier made his way into the room, closer to them to begin his story. “When I studied in Oxenfurt, there were strict rules in place for a while. Thoughts of shutting the school down, even. There were terrible murders, reports kept flooding in. I think it averaged at one per week? Of course, I don’t know what those bodies looked like, as anyone who had seen it before they were carted away wove tales to make themselves sound cooler, to the point where two people who had been standing next to each other had different views.

“They never found the murderer, to my knowledge. Bodies just started appearing, and then, shortly after I left, they stopped. I think I’ve heard tales of the occasional body or two showing up again every now and then, but seldom few link it back to that horrible time in history.”

Geralt shook his head. That wasn’t a good thing. “Are there any other details you can remember?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I wasn’t the kind of student to, er, pay attention to their surroundings much. Or the rules.”

There was a moment of silence between the three as they took in the idea of another, very similar murdering spree happening somewhere else. Geralt was the one to finally break it.

“Let’s check where this body was. See if we can find anything new there.”

~~~

Three more days passed without another hint. Three more days, and two more bodies. A human female, who experienced abrasions on her hands, elbows, and knees, as if she had fallen, and a female elf. Geralt was growing frustrated. The scenes of the murders were immaculately clean, nothing out of the ordinary about them. Asking the deceased family members didn’t reveal anything new either. They were happening all over the city, to all classes, all races, and all genders. Still the only thing linking them was that it happened at night. Geralt tried that out too, walking around after the sun had set, but that was the night there was no murder.

The parents that had hired him were too, growing frustrated. And impatient.

Jaskier slammed the door shut behind him, breathing heavily with his back pressed against it. “All I wanted was breakfast. Not to be verbally assaulted over whether you’ve killed the murderer yet or not.”

“Are they back again?” Geralt sighed, accepting the tankard Jaskier brought up for him.

“They were, yes, but the owner was ushering them out. He decided that unwanted stress on the best source of income he has right now was warrant enough to get involved.”

“Any other news?”

“Nothing from the coroner yet. But it’s not like we have any leads anyway, so.”

“Have you ever heard of a higher vampire?”

Jaskier sat down on the bed in thought. “I can’t say that I have. Why, do you think that’s important?”

“Higher vampires are the smartest – well, smartest monster in general. They can pass as human, and won’t even set this thing off.” He gestured to the wolf medallion around his neck. “Not unless they want it to, of course, but there’s hardly a reason for that. They’re the one monster that witchers are warned against taking contracts on so easily, for they are truly an almost impossible monster to defeat. Especially alone.”

“You don’t think that’s what is here, in the city, do you?”

“I don’t know what else it would be. It makes sense, if you really think about it.”

He stood up suddenly and swiped the tankard from Geralt as he was about to drink from it, spilling its contents onto Geralt. “Alright, that’s it. Pack up your things, we’re leaving today.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am not! Geralt, if this thing isn’t something you can track… isn’t even something you’re supposed to fight alone! Then what do you think is going to happen? Bloody nothing! Your dead body will be stuck rotting wherever it’s hiding. You didn’t take the gold from them yet, we can slip out of the city and stay away for a while. Everyone will forget it eventually.”

“I can’t, Jaskier. I have to finish the contract. It’s what witchers do.”

“And I can’t see you die!” Jaskier yells, spilling the rest of the drink on the floor as tears welled up in his eyes. “I – I don’t have anyone else. You’re my only friend, Geralt. I don’t want to be alone.”

Geralt faced Jaskier, hesitating before reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll do all the necessary preparations I can, when I find it. Oils, potions, the works. I can even see if there are any sorcerers around that might help, if that would make you feel better. I can split a percentage of the coin with them for it.”

Jaskier sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “You can do… whatever you want to, Geralt. You’re your own person. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“Friends worry about other friends all the time, don’t they?”

He looked up and smiled. “I think – that’s the first time you’ve called me your friend.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Jaskier chuckled lightly. “Ugh, now I’m a mess. I should clean up.”

“Stay here and rest up,” Geralt said, patting his shoulder and releasing it, as if that moment had never happened. “I was just headed to a bookstore anyway, to do some research.”

“Research?” He giggled again. “I didn’t take you as the scholarly type, Geralt. What’s next, are you going to write your own academic paper on perilous monsters and how to avoid them?”

He sighed. “Yes, and then follow it up with annoying bards and how to get rid of them.”

Jaskier shook his head. “I’ll be sure word gets to you if they find another body. Go ahead, Mr. Scholar. Take your leave.”

~~~

“Greetings!” the man behind the counter said as Geralt opened the door to his shop, though he seemed surprised when he noticed the two swords. “Ah, a witcher. I’d ask if I can interest you in anything for sale, but I assume you’re here for other reasons.”

“That depends on how well this goes,” he said, crossing his arms. “Would you let me read a book or two without purchasing them?”

“Since I don’t imagine you have much use for lugging a book around on your travels, yes, the store can serve as a library for you. Anything in particular you’re looking for?’”

“History books. Something with a closer look at Oxenfurt.”

He gestured for Geralt to follow him with his head, leading him up the narrow staircase. “I have a large history section up here. I’m certain a witcher has no interest in the architecture or the founding of the school, though. Do you have anything more specific than Oxenfurt?”

Geralt wasn’t sure if he should say anything, but he figured, if the guards were starting to realize something was wrong, finally, then news would spread eventually. If the deceased’s family hadn’t already done that. “I’m looking for any information on the Oxenfurt murders.”

The man paled suddenly, looking back at Geralt with wide eyes. “I do have a book on that, aye. I’ve read it cover to cover plenty of times, and it is easily the strangest thing in history. You don’t think – it’s not happening again, is it?”

“History is doomed to repeat,” Geralt muttered. “If you’ve read it so many times, as you claim, perhaps you’d be willing to give me the overview?”

He nodded and pulled a book off of the shelf, leaning over an empty table with it as he flipped through the pages. “The Oxenfurt murders are one of the world’s greatest mysteries. Around... two hundred were murdered over the course of four years. A good number of the bodies had no injuries, but all of them were drained of their blood. It’s a dark spot in the history of Oxenfurt. The school almost shut down in fear as the city’s population was depleting so fast. But then, they stopped as suddenly as they started. The author here claims a few bodies found since are also the work of this mysterious murderer, but they have no proof, and no one else truly believes them. Nothing these past seventy years has come as close to closing the school as that did.”

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. “Seventy?”

“Yes, these events took place around seventy years ago. Forgive me, I would have started with that if I had known you were unaware.”

He nodded stiffly, already backing away, towards the stairs. “Thank you. I think I have enough information now.” Swiftly, he descended the stairs and hurried back out onto the street, dread filling him with every step back to the tavern.

~~~

“Oh, there you are, Geralt!” Jaskier said cheerfully as he opened the door, looking over a notebook in his lap. “I was about to come and search for you; apparently there’s another body waiting.”

Geralt stood by the door, closing it behind him with a soft click. That noise and the lack of response drew Jaskier’s attention away from his book, and frowned upon seeing the sullen look on Geralt’s face.

“What happened? Did your research not go well?”

“It was interesting,” he said, finally, fighting to keep his voice level and even.

“It seems more than interesting, Geralt, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. And that’s something you do all the time, you didn’t even look this way after those wraiths last week. What happened?”

“You didn’t tell me that the Oxenfurt murders happened seventy years ago.”

He whistled. “Has it really been that long? Time flies when you’re chasing monsters down day after day, doesn’t it?”

“Jaskier – you haven’t aged a day since I met you.”

The smile on his face fell, slowly turning into fear. “You can’t possibly be saying what I think you are, Geralt. You – you must be mistaken.”

“There was no murder that night you were awake. There was no murder when I roamed the streets at dark, only to come back to–”

“Me, half asleep, waiting for you. Because I was _concerned_.” He set the book to the side and stood slowly. “You can’t possibly think – I haven’t killed anyone, Geralt!”

He wished he could believe it. He truly wished it were true. But the odds were too stacked against Jaskier, too many variables that seemed to make perfect sense together when Jaskier was put at the center of it all.

Jaskier took Geralt’s silence as confirmation that he did, in fact, believe it to be true. Tears formed in his eyes and his hands clenched into fists to attempt to keep his voice level. “Aren’t we friends, Geralt? Haven’t we spent the last – however many years it has been, together, fighting monsters and having fun? How can you think I would ever harm someone? How can you _possibly_ think I’m the murderer? I would never kill anyone!” As the tears finally started to escape, streaming down his face, he couldn’t bear the sight of Geralt anymore, brushing past him and running out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Geralt let him leave. He knew there would be another murder that night, there was no doubt about it. But for now, there was no point in running after him. Right now, what he needed was help.

~~~

Geralt tossed a coin purse onto the counter, drawing the attention of the tavern owner. “Jaskier won’t be able to play tonight. He’s – under the weather. I hope this will cover the cost of the room. And – two tankards of ale.”

He carried the tankards back upstairs and closed the door behind him, resting them on the nightstand before meticulously picking up Jaskier’s notes and carefully stacking them in the corner, by his lute. His medallion started to hum and his shadow grew along the wall as his back was turned, but it didn’t surprise him.

“I got your letter. Let’s save the pleasantries, I know you wouldn’t have asked me to come if it wasn’t important.”

Geralt turned and nodded to the newcomer. “It’s worse than you may know, Yen. I couldn’t fit all the details in the letter.”

“You could have fit more at least, I have no idea what is going on.” She looked around the dismal room and frowned, and then, with a movement of her hands, a chair and a desk appeared as the room grew to accompany them. “Where’s the bard? I see his things are here, too.”

“That’s the problem.” He passed her one of the tankards as she sat in the chair, taking the other and sitting on the bed.

“Oh don’t tell me, he’s finally seen some sense and doesn’t want to be around you. Or better yet, if he’s been kidnapped–”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to guess this, Yen.”

“Then please, fill me in.”

~~~

A pregnant silence filled the air as Geralt watched Yennefer closely, gauging her reaction to the story. He had told her all of the events that had progressed so far – the murders, how he was hired, and how Jaskier had run out after he was confronted. She hadn’t reacted to anything he had said, and now, the room was full of the golden glow of the setting sun, casting large, sharp shadows across the room.

“Are you certain it’s him?” Yennefer said, resting the tankard on the desk and crossing her legs. “The date in the history book may be wrong.”

“You know they are usually meticulous about things like that. He’s never once shied away from blood, he hasn’t aged a day since we met, and I told you about his aversion to visit the brothel and the nights there were no murder. Even if it wasn’t seventy years, the other things still line up.”

“But you don’t think he’s the one killing,” she said, frowning. “Don’t try to deny it, I can see it in your eyes.”

He sighed. “He couldn’t stand to look at the bodies in the coroners. His heart was beating wildly enough that I could hear it earlier, but there was no falter in it. It was his own fear. He didn’t tell a single lie, Yen, and he said he didn’t kill those people.”

“There it is. You think it’s a curse.”

“What else could it be?”

“Maybe he’s a deceptive liar? He is a bard, afterall, for however long he may have been around. He knows how to twist his words. But no, you want to assume the best in him, even knowing he’s killed hundreds.”

“I have seen many kinds of curses,” Geralt growled. “People forced to be monsters during different times of the day, or always look like a monster while retaining their human thoughts and feelings. What’s to say the opposite doesn’t exist? A curse on a monster, so that he doesn’t remember he’s a monster? So that his other side truly is as monstrous as everyone thinks it should be?”

“Who would curse a monster?”

“You’ve met Jaskier. Don’t pretend you can’t think of multiple reasons in only a short time.”

“Fair point.” She sighed and turned to the desk. “I can see what I can find on curses. But I’ll need your help. And I’ll need more than just ale in return for it.”

“Of course,” Geralt said. “Anything.”

~~~

They studied books, poured over papers, and looked at everything Yennefer could possibly find relating to curses. They spent all night on it and most of the next day, ignoring the knocks on the door and the notes passed under the gap. There was no sign of Jaskier, either, after he ran off the day before. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to go on. It seemed that breaking the curse might involve something not short of a miracle.

Geralt had taken a break but Yen continued to read what was open in front of her, the sun once again beginning to set. One of Jaskier’s doublets was left strewn on the floor, so Geralt gently picked it up, knowing Jaskier would be upset if it wrinkled.

“Look, Geralt,” Yennefer said, not turning around. “At this point, I don’t think we have a choice. If he stays out there, he’ll just keep killing. We have to do something before more people die at his hands.”

“I know.”

“I know you don’t like it–”

“I don’t.”

“But it’s the only choice we have.” She turned around, a sympathetic look on her face. “I can help you.”

Staring at the doublet, he shook his head. “It has to be me. I have to do it alone.”

She nodded. “I’ll be just outside, then, waiting. I assume you know how to find him?”

He raised the doublet in answer, carefully folding it over as she gathered her things. Of course he knew how to find Jaskier. The worn doublet had his scent all over it – hints of pine needles crushing underfoot, mixed with his lavender soap and just a touch of dew on the grass in the early hours of the morning, when everything is still peaceful and quiet, especially Jaskier. He had traveled so much alongside the smell, he had learned to tune it out when needed. But now – now he would be able to pick it out of any crowd, and maybe even follow his trail from the day before. Not because it was pungent, for Jaskier was anything but. It was because it would be like traveling home. 

Once that was folded and set aside, he dug in his bag of potions to find the vampire oil, tipping it onto a rag and rubbing it slowly up and down the silver blade, just like he was taught. The sun moved as he did, shadows stretching to their breaking point, the point right before they would disappear altogether. Up and down the blade. He tried not to think about the last time he had used oil on his blade, when Jaskier was worried about him. When all Jaskier wanted was for him to take a break before they got back into everything. What did he do to be cursed like this, for so long? How could he be a killer?

“Are you ready to go?” Yennefer asked as he stood, rifling through his bag once more. After pulling out one of his many potions and slipping it into his pocket, he nodded.

Geralt took the lead, following his nose out of the tavern and into the street. Yennefer was quick to follow, keeping an eye out around every turn.

“Master Witcher!” Cyril cried out from the side of the road, hurrying over. “I’ve been trying to contact you since yesterday! There are two more bodies from the monster.”

“I know,” he growled, his sword flashing in the nearby firelight. “Hope that no more come.”

He looked down at the sword. “So you’ve found it? You’re hunting it now! Oh, I’ll be glad not to see those victims anymore. Right, let me get out of your way. So long, Master Witcher!”

They took a winding path through the city, and Geralt vaguely wondered if some of the scent trails intermixed, perhaps from his murder the night before. That might make it more difficult to find him, but as long as they didn’t get turned back around to the tavern, he was sure they would reach him.

It led them out of the city, past a sleeping Roach, where Jaskier seemed to have spent a considerable amount of time. No doubt Jaskier tried talking to her like Geralt so often did, but clearly, it didn’t work out very well for him. Finally, the trail entered a nearby barn, and from the strength of the smell, it was where Jaskier was hiding.

“He’s in there?” Yennefer asked when they stopped, looking the place up and down. “He must have been truly desperate. Doesn’t seem like his kind of place.”

Geralt gripped the sword tighter and drew close to the doors, looking back to Yennefer with a nod. “I’ll do my best to make it fast.”

“Just do your best not to die, I don’t care how long it takes.”

He pushed open the door and watched the moonlight illuminate the straw-strewn ground, and with a deep breath, he entered the building. With careful, quiet steps, he looked around for a sign of Jaskier, knowing he was hiding somewhere. Knowing he wanted to talk with him before it was too late. Assuming he was right about the form of the curse, he still had a few minutes.

“I’m not a killer, Geralt.” He was hidden among the hay bales, crouching low amidst the scattered straw. Even in the darkness, though, Geralt could still see him as he drew closer to the back of the room. It was almost time.

“I know,” he said, quietly. He knew that. Of course he did. Jaskier wasn't the killer. The bard was too kind, too sensitive, to lay a finger on anyone. He’d even try and trap and release bugs before resorting to killing them.

“You know?” Jaskier repeated, voice terse, intense, hardly recognizable from his usual lofty, joyful banter. “You _know_? And yet you still accused me? Yet you still come in here, seeking me out, having prepared your toxic potions and wielding that glittering silver sword. You know, and yet you still hunt me down like I'm some – some beast. Some _monster_. Is this it, then? Is this how I am to die? Will the world wonder over the disappearance of the bard, Jaskier? Or will you come clean? Bring them my head on a stick, tell them how you valiantly fought the ‘murderer’, spread the story of Jaskier the _monster_ and how someone he had considered his friend sliced his head from his shoulders.”

“We are friends,” Geralt said, Jaskier’s words stabbing him in the gut with hot knives. “More than friends. I know you aren’t the murderer. You would never be. Something has taken hold of you. Something is using you–”

“Is that your excuse!” he roared, standing up and facing Geralt. His upper half was now illuminated by a shaft of moonlight from a high window, revealing his blood stained shirt, trailing all the way up to his chin. He seemed unaware of it, but Geralt had smelled it before he entered the barn. There was a faint red glow to his eyes, too – definitely inhuman. Any minute now. “I don’t know what or who has gotten into that thick skull of yours, but I am my own person! There are no voices in my head, tempting me to slit someone’s throat! There is no spirit inhabiting my body, moving my limbs and spilling a man’s guts all over the pavement!”

“That’s not how these victims have died, you know that. They were drained of their blood. A few show signs of struggle – a snapped neck, broken ribs – but no slashes, cuts, or otherwise. Just a strange, identical bite mark.”

Some of Jaskier’s anger drained from his face. “Right. Signs of struggle, bite marks. No blood. A vampire did this.”

“Vampire is the very basic, general term, but yes.”

He grew quiet, his head turning towards the moon, almost as if he was in a trance. “It’s almost midnight,” he said, but it wasn’t his voice anymore. There was no emotion at all, and for a brief second, Geralt was terrified. Horror then fell across Jaskier’s face as he turned away, lifting his hands to find them covered in blood. Fear and panic carrying his voice through the barn. “Geralt, you need to leave! Please – go! I’m begging you!”

“No,” he said firmly, adjusting his stance and bringing his sword up in front of him, preparing for an opponent to strike.

“Geralt, now isn’t the time for your heroics! I – I still don’t quite know what is going on, but the last thing I want is for you to get caught up in this! I don’t want you hurt because of me! I don’t – I don’t want you to die at my own hands!”

“I won’t leave you.”

Jaskier grew still and calm once more, and his head tilted to the side. “You are a fool, Witcher.”

“Yes, I am.” Finally, he said something he can agree with. “A fool in love, willing to risk everything, even my life, for the one I love.” In the distance, an old clock tower rang out the hour.

“Do you know how long I’ve lived, Witcher?” Jaskier said, taking a step forward. “Longer than you, I expect. That – other man, the human part, wouldn’t remember it all. His memory resets every time we die, as it takes a while to regenerate. I know all your tricks. Your fancy sword movements, potions, poisons. Do you really expect to take me down, alone?”

“A split personality,” he said, finally understanding, almost joyous over the fact that he was correct. “That’s what the curse was. You’re using his body to kill people. It’s why he couldn’t remember. That’s how he wasn’t lying.”

The vampire held his hands out in a questioning manner. “Am I using his body, or is he using mine? He is weak and pathetic. Doesn’t even know his own strength, hiding just under his fingertips. Me? I embrace it. Live in it. _Love_ it.”

“I can’t imagine anyone would curse you and still allow you to be free at night to murder.”

“Most nights,” he corrected. “As I am sure you are well aware, whenever Jaskier was awake, I was not around. The full moon, however, changes things. I don’t have to wait for him to fall unconscious then. Perhaps the curse was not effective enough? Perhaps, after our first death with the curse, it split us like this? The best part about it is, you will never know. You have come here to slay your friend, never knowing if there was the possibility of saving him or not. 

“I’ve left you alone, Witcher, because then, obviously, the blame for your murder would be put on us. Even if that poor excuse of a human seems incapable of anything even remotely close. But dying really is an inconvenience, and I have no say over what he does or says during the day, so I’ve had to deal with it. Now, though. Now, you know too much. Now, I’ll kill you, and no one else will know my secret. You’re just another body to the pile.”

Geralt’s medallion started to hum, unlike anything he had ever felt before. The vampire started to shift in front of his very eyes, and it was almost painful to watch. But the vampire could strike at any moment, and he had to be ready for it. So he couldn’t look away. It was a gruesome sight. His teeth grew as his face sharpened, growing gray. His hands and feet turned into sharp, deadly claws. Geralt fished the black potion out from his pocket and popped the cork off, drinking the contents of the bottle and tossing it to the side, shattering against the floor.

_You know, Witcher,_ said the vampire’s voice, pervading his mind. It was Jaskier’s, there was no doubt, but there was a distinct tone that made it unlike Jaskier’s, too. _I know his thoughts, too. I know the way he looks at you, and what he thinks when he does. I know what he thinks about you when you’re not around. If that’s the same feeling you have for that stupid man, then do you really have the strength to kill me? Do you really have the guts? I could check, if you want. I don’t like to spill my meal on the ground, but, if you really force my hand…_

Geralt gripped his sword tighter. He knew a fight was coming. He just couldn’t bring himself to land the first blow.

He didn’t have to wait long. Quick as a flash, the vampire slashed with his claws and Geralt dodged back, pirouetting and slashing at the end of the spin. He only cut through the air, because the vampire was quicker than he was. In the blink of an eye, he vanished, but Geralt could still hear him moving around. His keen hearing allowed him to turn and block the attack at the last minute, for the vampire had turned visible just before the leap. A faster enemy and one that could turn invisible was definitely a challenge. 

The vampire leaped out of the way as Geralt jabbed at it, barely missing Geralt’s arm with the claws on his feet. He bared his fangs and growled before pouncing, landing on Geralt’s block. He used the vampire’s momentum to push back against him with his sword, vaulting him over his head and crashing into the wall of the barn. 

_I bet there’s one thing still bothering you_ , the vampire said as he picked himself up off of the floor, advancing closer again. _You never could find a pattern in my victims, could you? I kill for sport. For fun. Because it’s thrilling,_ electrifying _, even, to sink my teeth into the ripe flesh of any humanoid. To taste their blood coating my throat. To hear their screams and wails piercing my ears until I have sucked the life out of them. Sure, some of them squirm, some of them don’t make it easy. But doesn’t everyone play with their food every now and then? There was no pattern because I chose those vulnerable, those I could find as easy targets._

When the vampire slashed again, Geralt was ready for it. Instead of dodging, he parried it, giving him enough time to slice the side of the vampire. He howled, scuttling backward, and his hand reached up to the thin line now dripping with the thick blood of a vampire. Being hurt seemed to have angered him, as he didn’t stop to talk as he gathered himself this time. Instead, he attacked with more force than he had before, as if he was holding himself back earlier.

The attacks were faster, stronger, and Geralt was struggling to keep up. He dodged, parried, pirouetted, even tried to use aard to throw the vampire back some, but the attacks kept coming. His attacks were useless, too. Every slash, every jab, every swing, he just barely missed. If the fight continued this way, Geralt would miss his opportunity. If this wasn’t done tonight, then he would fail.

Everything came grinding to a halt when Geralt miscalculated where the invisible attack was coming from, and the vampire managed to catch him by surprise. His claw caught on Geralt’s face, dragging upward as it slashed right over his eye.

Geralt grunted and jumped back, using aard to send the vampire across the barn before reaching up to hold his face, his glove quickly growing slick with blood. The vampire seemed to have stopped the fight, however, a strange almost smile on his bat-like face.

_Ah, can you smell that?_ He said, creeping closer. Geralt slowly, cautiously, took a step back. _Your blood, piercing the air… I wonder what witcher blood tastes like. If the trials you’ve been through have changed the taste of your blood. Oh, how sweet might it taste? Would you allow me a taste? A teasing appetizer before the main course arrives?_

He continued to back up, holding his sword between himself and the vampire, until he had backed his way out of the barn completely. The vampire, having grown restless as Geralt continued to back away, reared up, preparing to strike.

Yennefer appeared from the side of the barn, holding her hand out in front of her and yelling in Elder Speech. A cage formed around the vampire, just big enough to contain him. To be completely sure he wouldn’t escape, however, she said another quick spell, and he fell unconscious, dropping to the ground.

“What happened in there?” She asked as she walked over to Geralt. “I thought we agreed the plan was to get him out here before anything bad happened!”

“I couldn’t push him back,” Geralt muttered, still holding his eye. “Got lucky with this opening.”

“Yeah, after he opened your face.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll open a portal to take us all back.”

“Ugh, I hate portals.”

“Yeah, well unless you want to explain why you’re bleeding everywhere to the tavern owner, and lug the cage with the vampire in it up those stairs, you’re going to have to deal with it.”

Geralt relented, staring out at the graying horizon as Yennefer prepared the portal. When he finally stepped through the dizzying thing and it closed behind him, the room had once again changed sizes so that the cage would fit alongside everything else. 

Much to Yennefer’s protests, Geralt patched up the vampire’s wound first, wrapping his abdomen and pouring a touch of his healing potions onto the cloth. The last thing he wanted after all of that pain and trouble was for Jaskier to die anyway. The vampire oil in his wound would prevent him from recovering fast, but he had used it knowing it was the only thing that could give him an edge. Only then did he look after himself, swallowing some of his potions and washing his face of blood. Yennefer insisted he bandage his wound too, so he haphazardly wrapped the linen the best he could to cover the horizontal wound. He was sure, within a day, it would be nothing more than a scar. And he was fairly certain his vision would be normal too.

“I still haven’t quite found the spell I need. At least he’s trapped now, and we know he won’t be killing anymore.”

“It’s a split personality, if that helps. Said so himself.”

“I had figured as much, with all of your insistence that he wasn’t the murderer. That’s why we had to subdue him like this. If we had done it the other way around… well, you certainly wouldn’t have liked those results.” She started looking over the books once more.

Geralt sat and watched as the sun started to filter into the room, and Jaskier slowly changed back to his normal self. He was still covered in blood, but at least the bandages were under his clothes. The spell would wear off eventually, and Jaskier would wake. Geralt wanted to be there for him the minute he did.

When Jaskier finally stirred, he hit his head on one of the bars of the cage. The resulting, groggy, “Fuck,” that was one hundred percent the Jaskier he knew made Geralt’s heart twist. As he scratched at his head and sat up, he slowly became aware of his surroundings.

“Good morning, Jaskier,” Yennefer said, not looking up. His gaze jerked from Geralt to her as he stood up, grabbing the bars before him. “I heard you’ve been a naughty boy. Found yourself under a curse, have we?”

“Yennefer,” he greeted, lips pursed. “Decided to lock me up in a cage for my bad deeds, then? Come to experiment on me? Use me as a warning?”

“We had to lock you inside in case you woke up sooner than we expected,” Geralt said, crossing the room to him. “We didn’t want a vampire running loose in the tavern.”

“Right, a big ‘ol scary vampire. That’s me, running around and murdering people.” His disbelief and anger carried through in his tone, but when he looked down at his feet, his face was pale as it jerked back up, finding the blood he was still covered in. “Yennefer said something about a curse? Is that… true?”

He sighed. “Not in the way you want it to be.”

“What do you mean?” He held a hand up to pause the answer, clutching at his head with the other. “It’s all so – much. You – you had found me, in the barn, and – that was after I ran away, because you accused me of murder.” Horror spread on his face. “You accused me of murder – Geralt, please, tell me I’m wrong, tell me – tell me these thoughts aren’t mine.”

“I can’t. You weren’t cursed to be a monster, Jaskier. You were cursed so your monster side was more monstrous, and your human side more human, from the looks of it. More you. But there is no denying that you are, in fact, a higher vampire.”

His hands fumbled at the bars as he stumbled backward, leaning heavily against the back of the cage. His breath started to grow faster. “All those people… I hurt them. I _killed_ them.” He slid down the bars, dazed. “Geralt, your _eye_ ,” he said, as if he just noticed the bandages. “I – I did that.”

“Open the cage.”

“Geralt, he’s too unstable right now–” Yennefer started.

“Open the cage, dammit! He’s going into shock!”

With a frown, she waved her hand and the front bars vanished. Before Geralt could rush to his aid, however, Jaskier held his hand up again. 

“No, Geralt, stay away! I’m the monster you hunt, whether you say it was me or not. Their blood is on _my_ hands. Or rather… I don’t want to think about that. _I_ hurt you. You’re a witcher. You’re meant to hunt down monsters. You kill all the ones that threaten humans. Maybe… maybe you should have just killed me already. Someone should pay for their deaths.”

Geralt knelt down in front of the cage to be at Jaskier’s level, to look him in the eyes. “Someone will pay for their deaths, Jaskier. That other personality of yours. Once we figure this out, he will be gone, eradicated. You will have full control of yourself.” Ever so slowly, he crept closer, stopping any time Jaskier seemed to not like it. “Do you remember those rock trolls who kidnapped you? I had feared the worst, but when I finally found you, they only wanted to hear your music. They hadn’t laid a finger on you, and in fact, you seemed awfully happy to play for them. We bargained to leave, and I didn’t even unsheathe my sword.”

He mumbled incoherently under his breath.

“I don’t kill sentient monsters, Jaskier, especially if they’ve done no harm. Only if they refuse to listen and attack me anyway do I fight.” He paused again, finally inside the cage, next to Jaskier. “I have a friend who’s a higher vampire. He saved my life when we first met. I’ve never once thought of killing him. Not all higher vampires are bad.” Gently, he scooped Jaskier into his arms, and, feeling no protest, settled onto the floor with his head close to his chest, stroking calm fingers through his hair.

Jaskier’s breathing had started to slow once more, but from the shaking, Geralt could tell he was crying. He buried his head further into Geralt’s chest and he allowed it, just resting there and carding his fingers through his hair as Jaskier cried.

They sat like that for a long while, the only sound in the room a muffled sob every now and again, and the occasional elder mutterings from Yennefer as she tested spells. It was a few minutes after Jaskier finally stopped shaking when he finally pulled away from Geralt, eyes puffy and bloodshot.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, reaching up to touch the edge of the bandage.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Geralt repeated, though from Jaskier’s confused expression, he hadn’t noticed his wound. With a gesture to his side Jaskier slowly lifted his shirt, hands trembling, and found the bandage wet with blood.

“Oh.” He prodded it gently, a grimace forming on his face.

“We should change that,” Geralt suggested, and reluctantly, he untangled himself from Jaskier as they both stood. While Geralt went for new linen, Jaskier pulled his shirt off and carefully started to unwrap it. He had done it plenty of times before, unwrapping Geralt’s wounds after insisting he treat them. 

Geralt cleaned the gash out with highly watered down potions and rewrapped it with gentle hands, watching Jaskier’s face for any wince or other sign of pain that might be coming from it. Once that was finished, he found a new set of clothes for Jaskier, so he didn’t have to wear the bloodied ones anymore. When he was changed into that, he almost looked like his usual self again.

With a gentle hand Geralt reached out and moved Jaskier’s hair, positioning it in that perfect balance of clean and messy he always likes. When his action was met with a small smile, he quickly removed his hand and looked out the window towards the setting sun, clearing his throat.

“What about yours?” Jaskier asked, drawing his attention back to him.

“My what?”

“Your bandage. Should we replace that one too?”

Geralt reached up and started to remove it. “It shouldn’t be necessary. Should have healed by now.” When the last of the fabric fell from in front of his eye, he blinked to readjust to the light, having spent the day with only one eye to see. From the soft gasp and concerned look Jaskier was giving him, he assumed it scared him.

Instead of opening up that conversation, he turned to Yennefer. “The sun is beginning to set. Have you figured out the curse yet?”

“I’ve tried a few things, but none of them are guaranteed until our bard falls asleep. Maybe you should stay awake tonight, Jaskier, until I know for sure.”

“Hmmm.” He looked out the window again, towards the rising moon. “Full moons usually last a couple of days, don’t they?”

“Yes, Geralt. About three days. I don’t see how that’s –” She turned to look at him, worried. “Shit.” Quickly, Jaskier was pushed back into the cage and the bars reformed as Yennefer rounded on Geralt. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“What’s happening?” Jaskier asked, holding the bars of the cage once again.

Yennefer sighed angrily and flipped through her books with more ferocity. “From what Geralt told me, I had already assumed your other side comes out when you fall asleep. Kind of like your brain shuts off and his turns on. But, if this is a full moon curse, it means–”

“He can take over without needing you to be unconscious first,” Geralt finished. “That happened last night. It seemed midnight was the turning point.”

“We better act quickly then if this is going to work tonight.”

Jaskier looked around, worried. “Do you think this cage will really hold – him?”

“It’s made of silver,” Yennefer said, and Jaskier immediately let go. “While higher vampires aren’t usually affected by it, being surrounded by it should still diminish his power greatly.”

Carefully, he reached out and took a hold of the bars again, if only to be able to see through them better. Geralt wrapped his hand around his, coming close to the bars, close enough that their breath intermixed. “I won’t let him win, Jaskier. We will get through this. He won’t be able to harm anyone ever again.”

“I know,” he said, a small smile on his face even with the knowledge of what would come. “I know you would never do anything to harm me. Geralt – I’m sorry I ran out when you accused me. I should have.. Stayed. Listened. I should have known there was something else going on.”

“Save it. I… could have come about saying it better.”

“Either way, I hope you still consider me your friend.”

“Of course I do, Jaskier. I always will.”

Jaskier’s free hand darted out of the cage and caught Geralt’s shirt, pulling him in, and for a second, he was afraid that the vampire had already taken hold. But when their lips met, Geralt’s brain had to reboot. Jaskier, kissing him. Jaskier, _kissing him_. The vampire wasn’t lying. He leaned into the kiss more, until they both pulled away, breathless, staring into each other’s eyes.

Yennefer cleared her throat and they jumped apart, Jaskier growing red and Geralt rubbing the back of his neck. “If you two lovebirds are done, we really shouldn’t stand close to him, just in case.”

Geralt nodded. “Right.”

They waited anxiously for something to happen. Geralt started pacing in his impatience, while Jaskier tapped a tune out on the bars of the cell. Yennefer continued her elder mutterings, but seemed disassitified after each one. 

When the clock tower chimed, Geralt froze. He stared out the window and counted the bells out, all the way up to twelve. In unison, He and Yennefer turned to look at Jaskier, who had similarly frozen at the sound.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, breaking the tension in the room.

“Geralt?” he responded, confused. “What’s happening?”

The tension in Geralt’s body released all at once, relief flooding through his veins. “He’s gone.”

“He is?” Jaskier repeated, voice borderline joyful. “Are you sure?”

“He only ever called me Witcher.” He took a step forward, only for Yennefer to hold a hand up. 

“Let me double check, will you? Just to make sure he’s not hiding.”

Geralt nodded, watching as Jaskier fidgeted nervously under Yennefer’s gaze. Each agonizingly silent second ticked on and on, with no sign that anything was happening. Finally, after what felt like hours, Yennefer let out a sigh of relief. “He’s gone.”

A smile broke out on Jaskier’s face. “Really? I don’t – I don’t have to worry about him anymore?”

The cage vanished with a wave of Yennefer’s hand and he ran to Geralt, who caught him with open arms and spun him around.

“How did you manage it?” Jaskier asked once his feet touched the ground again, breathless. “What did you do?”

“I don’t believe I did anything, actually,” she said with a smile. “I think… you broke the curse.”

His joyous expression turned to confusion, and he pulled back from Geralt some to look up at his equally confused expression. “I did it?”

“It can’t be,” Geralt said, looking over at Yennefer. “The only way he could have done it himself was –”

“True love’s kiss. Seems the rumors are wrong about witchers. Can’t deny they have feelings any longer.”

Jaskier smiled as Geralt still looked at Yennefer in shock, jumping up to kiss his cheek, just under his new scar. He would have to apologize, but that would come later. They had the time. “I wouldn’t have figured it out without you.”

“Hmmm,” he said, turning back to him, though a smile was starting to spread across his face. “Seems like you’ve got plenty of new material to make a song out of this one, huh?”

His eyes twinkled. “What a perfect idea. I’m afraid you’re going to have to fill me in with some of the details, though.”

“Later. I think we should all get some rest after all of that.”

Jaskier giggled. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

~~~

Geralt watched as Jaskier sang to the crowd in the tavern, having packed it after news spread it would be his last day in town. When they caught each other’s gaze, Jaskier winked, and Geralt looked back at his food with a small smile.

Yennefer sat her silverware down and dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief. “There’s a chance he’ll start remembering things. I can’t be certain for sure what it will be – past lives he doesn’t remember, or any of those nights when the other guy took over. Be prepared for a future of nightmares.”

Geralt nodded. “He won’t be alone, though. I’ll be there for him.”

“I know you will.”

“Yen–”

“Don’t, Geralt. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I’m glad I could be of help. About my payment…”

“What is it you want?”

“I don’t want to hear of you doing anything stupid for at least another year. I don’t even know if I want to hear from you at all.” She folds the handkerchief and stands, moving out from the table. “Oh, and with the money you collect from your reward, think about spending some of it on a bath, won’t you?”

“What?” She was already leaving, though, and didn’t turn back around to answer.

Jaskier appeared not long after, a smile on his face as he swung his lute to his back and took the empty seat. “Yennefer left already?”

“Mhmm. And I think she left us a parting gift.”

“That sounds terrifying. Well, I think I’m done down here, if you’d like to retire early?”

They ascended the stairs together, finding their room was back to the original size. In the corner, however, sat something that looked very much like the head of a vampire, it’s blood oozing onto a towel underneath it.

“Smells like a pig's head,” Geralt said, and Jaskier chuckled.

“What she gave us is a way to clear my name,” he said, moving closer to examine it. “Turn it in, and no one will suspect anything of it. Then – then someone still pays for the murders.”

Geralt put his arm around his shoulders as he heard the solemn tone his voice took. “We also get paid for taking care of it,” he muttered, earning another chuckle from Jaskier.

Before they retired, they cleaned up the room so they would be ready to go when they woke in the morning. Jaskier curled up on the bed, as he always did, but Geralt hesitated. He eyed the floor, and then the soft bed, and the floor again.

With a grunt, the bed dipped under Jaskier, and he fell backwards, landing against the warmth of Geralt’s chest. A smile formed on his face as Geralt wrapped his arms around him, settling into the embrace.

“Geralt?” he muttered after a few moments, partially opening his eyes before he fell asleep and forgot what he wanted to say.

“Hmmm?”

“You won’t have to worry about me being injured anymore while you’re fighting a monster.”

His heart warmed as he felt Geralt’s deep chuckle against his back, a smile spreading across his face.

“I still have to worry about myself, though.”

“Nuh-uh. If anything, the monsters should be worried about hurting you.”

“Hmmm. Why is that?”

“If they hurt you, you have a big scary monster boyfriend that will tear them to shreds.”

“Big? Yes.” Geralt kissed his head. “Scary? Not so much.”

“Just you wait, I’ll send the next ghoul we come across running away in fear,” he muttered, eyelids drooping. “No one’s allowed to hurt you.”

“Whatever may happen out there, at least there’s one thing we can count on.”

“What?”

“We’ll be able to live together for a long, long time.”

He smiled as his eyes finally slid shut, drifting off to sleep. “Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due, the title is from a quote in _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ , which I didn't want to put at the top so it would be a surprise if you didn't already know. You can find me [here on tumblr](https://pearlll09.tumblr.com/)!


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